


motion

by chaetrbl



Category: K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Drabble, Drinking, F/F, No smut but there's quite a lap dance, One Shot, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaetrbl/pseuds/chaetrbl
Summary: Your friend drags you out to a strip club, but it just might be the best thing he's ever done.
Relationships: Park Sooyoung | Joy/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	motion

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written earlier this month, can't remember the date 🤡
> 
> inspired by (and named after one of) these two songs [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofIyRpGnvq0), [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrfg2oFPYEk)

"An hour," you leaned into your friend's personal space; the only viable option as heavy bass reverberated around, rising up and into your body. Feet first, over your shins, thighs, navel, chest. It spread once more to cover your arms, then came back to finish at your head. Your friend instinctively gave their ear to meet your filtered voice.

"That's all you're getting from me. I have a presentation to prepare for tomorrow."

"Okay, okay. No one's holding you hostage," your friend yelled back. 

"Though you might not wanna leave after seeing the girls here."

You sat back, the chill of the glass against your lips aiding against the gnawing anxiety in the back of your mind.

The Lady's Room wasn't big as far as other strip clubs are concerned, but you deduce that fact is what helped increase revenue. There is no main stage, but rather smaller, more intimate ones scattered amongst the floor, round booths attached to each. The bar was located in the center, to both better serve customers as well as keep watch of dancers and consumers alike. At least, that's what you guess.

You're here out of support and that alone. Your friend had rung hours earlier with some nonsense about getting over a girl he was dating, but not really, and while you had your personal thoughts about the idea, you figure it couldn’t be _that_ bad. He rallied your whole group together on a weeknight, leading to this very moment where you sat in the semicircle, handed your ordered drinks from a beautiful woman named Wendy.

The jack and coke is a tad on the strong side, but you can manage. Maybe you’ll need it.

The lights are dimmed, though you make out a woman's shadow emerging to the platform in front of your booth. She steps on, hips swinging. Your friends hooted when she strut into the light available, and you would've done the same if not for your sip. You clinked the glass against your teeth, speechless.

The woman had long, black hair, plush lips, and wore a black two-piece outfit; crop top, and high-waisted shorts. The rounded cut of the shirt ended just under her bust, solid on each side but mesh in the middle. Below, a large buckle across her abdomen.

The shorts were of a similar fashion, but the mesh wrapped around her hips instead. And my, those hips. The hourglass curves of her body could make you drool if you stared too long.

She grabs the pole in the center, strolling languidly around it. With her turned, you notice the entire back of her shirt is mesh, the delicate contours of her muscles on show. When she faces you once more, she spins her finger, perhaps to signal a new seductive track. In response, dark, booming chords cascade from the speakers.

Immediately her ass is to the floor, squatting on six-inch heels. She rolls her head, hands running up and down her length. She settles them atop her thighs for support as her bent legs sway to the beat.

Your ringleader friend is already throwing ones and the dancer picks one up, sliding it between her breasts, earning more cheer.

You cough, forcing yourself to look away. It was hard to breathe when this woman was absolutely smoking.

With a gulp of fresh air, you focus back, amazed to see she's taken to the pole. She spun with one arm attached, showcasing her glorious body.

Just who _is_ she?

She hops up and grabs with both hands, swinging with impressive dexterity. The muscles in her arms flexed and relaxed as she lifted her legs, giving an appearance of walking on air.

She's so good, that at some points you feel as if you're at a circus instead, watching a trapeze artist at work. But then she brings a hand over her face, licking it, or spreading your legs, and your core ignites yet again. You're a mere lighter and she the hand, flicking you over and over.

Somehow, with otherworldly strength, the woman twirls up, under, wrapping her left leg around the pole. She holds steady, arching back to grab the bar with her right hand, free limbs outstretched. She spins like this for a few moments, black hair free-flowing.

It's the smoothest sequence of movements you've ever had the pleasure of seeing. You’re acutely aware of what she’s inciting within you, noting that you should call it quits, but curiosity’s long killed the cat.

At some point under her spell, you scooted closer to the edge of the cushion and leaned forward, and looking around at your friends, you're not the only one entranced. You take a sip of your drink, closing your parted lips and sitting back.

The woman hoists herself up once more, rotating around with both of her legs bound. She leans back, with hands all over, ruffling her raven hair. She winks when her dazzling eyes meet your dazed pair. You can only blink in your stupor.

She crunches back up, grabbing the pole up high, swinging her legs out and open for the booth to see. Slowly, she rotates, lowering herself once again to the stage.

Your friends are throwing their singles at her now, and it only occurs to you now that you forgot to hit the ATM. You sink back into the cushions, in awe at the woman on her knees, snapping bills into place on her shorts.

Other dancers strutted up to occupy your friends, settling into their laps. You're wondering if maybe they were paid in advance, or your friend had orchestrated the ordeal. In either case, it seems as good a time as any to take off, especially with the throbbing in your pants.

You move to stand, immediately pushed back down with a hand on your chest. You look up to the stage dancer, smiling.

"Leaving without a goodbye?"

She mounted your lap at a painfully unhurried pace, arms snaking around your neck. The ease of such movements didn't escape you; the bare skin that brushed and now lay against yours, how perfectly comfortable she sat, like you and this anonymous stripper had been casual your entire lives. Due either to the drinks or her, you’re already forgetting this is her _job_ , and making you feel special is the name of the game.

"I- well. Not anymore."

You flitted your eyes off her gaze, bashful at the possibility of her noticing the heat underneath her thighs, burning stronger the longer she loitered.

Her fingernails gently rake the base of your neck as she thrusts on you, decelerating to tease your pelvis which lifted to meet hers unconsciously. It's gentle, sensual, but enough to make you hold your breath.

"You look so shy, yet your body says otherwise," With her fingers, she tilts your chin to face her, inching closer. 

"You can look at me," she purrs. "I want you to."

She _wants_ you to? _Well then._ You concede without resistance, dark brown eyes locking with yours. First mistake.

The woman smirks, slithering her hands down your flushed cheeks, over your neck. You muttered a gasp at the touch though your hands remained rooted at your sides. It becomes very clear not only to the woman but also yourself that your mind and body are at odds. You are enjoying this, there is no doubt about it. But you can't just feel up on any woman, no matter _what_ she does. It doesn't help your case that she is both beautiful and tantalizing. Nerves glued you in place.

She leans in a little more, a mix of floral perfume and sweat overpowering your senses. Her lower half seemed to move of its own accord as well, keeping a continuous rhythm with the dirty songs that played. You close your eyes briefly, a laughable attempt to re-calibrate. 

The woman's fingertips brush your jawline, cooing. 

"I _told_ you that you can look at me."

"You're toying with me," you retort. "And I won't let you so easily, this time."

Jane Doe raises her brows in surprise, and you give a mental cheer with the tiny victory. 

"I bet I can make you eat those words."

"Try me."

Second mistake.

The woman grinds into your sex. _Hard_. With a sloppy kiss planted in the space underneath your ear to follow. Her thick thighs have found refuge around your waist, heightening the friction she produced against you. You were wet before, but this created waves below the band of your underwear. Groaning through gritted teeth, you're positive that your knuckles were white on the fabric. The imprint's sure to last.

"Foul play," you choked.

The woman smirks against your jugular.

"House rules, _baby_. You're the visiting team."

Her hands move to skim your body starting with your collarbone, your chest, sliding back out to your shoulders. It may be your own temperature rising, but you can almost feel the same heat from the woman in your lap, deliciously alluring.

The woman alters her thrusts into a circular motion, allowing her to grind herself deeper into you. At this point, your sexual frustration is impossible to mask, but you also no longer care. You dropped your head, banging it harder against the seat than you imagined, but the woman doesn't stop. If anything, she picks up her pace, meeting yours in cadence.

Something in her faint moans says she doesn't do this with just anyone. 

But unfortunately for you, the song fades out of existence, and suddenly your time on the ride is over. The woman grins before biting her lip, breathing heavily. It feels heavenly against your face, which was blooming into rouge.

"That was the most fun I've had in a while,"

She strokes your cheeks once more, dragging her finger along your jaw. You lift up as she continues across your lips, flicking your bottom one.

"Surely you'll come back for more."

"Surely if I have a name." You stammered.

The woman's grin is nefarious, stirring your already fiery insides. She knows you're planning when to see her next, can read it in your simpleton stare. But she enjoys it, that much is obvious.

"You can call me Joy."


End file.
